The Dancing Story
by El-Ahrairah
Summary: Here lies the Dragon-Throne, where the mysteries of life and magick can be abridged into simple conversation. This is the story of a dancer. Her past is quite unknown. A few reviews would be nice.


The crash of a glass, the pounding of fists on a filthy wooden table, and the cheers of the barbarous nords. The combined racket formed a hideous noise which greeted Selina Maltne every time she came out on the floor. Maltne was a fair-skinned, beautiful Cyrodiil with long curly hair. She danced every other night at Fogswerd's Tavern.

As the girl slowly moved her body and winked suggestively at the bearded men; she remembered her life hadn't always been like this. Selina could still remember the Colovian Estates. She remembered days of sunshine and laughter, but one day it all changed. There were screams, and fire. The brother had left some years before, but her parents were burned. Only a toddler, Selina was taken away from home. And from there her life had led to this.

Tonight only a few golden coins were thrown at the dancer's feet. A pittance really. Bowing, Selina picked them up and ran off into the dressing room to more jeering from the crowd. She quickly opened the door and found a middle-aged, fat woman sitting in the stuffy room, "How'd it go hun?" she asked, applying make-up.

"They're not very excited tonight," Selina replied.

"Ha, you don't know how to please 'em," the old dancer replied. She wore a flashy red dress that emphasized her enormous flabby breasts.

"No, it's just that I don't like to please their sick desires. You'll do anything for them, won't you?"

"You got to accept what you is." At that comment, Selina grabbed her cloak and dashed out of the tavern into the dark Oakwood streets. The large garment covered her common dress; she couldn't afford a pretty one although she always noticed the ones on sale at Gredge's Clothier.

The lovely girl opened the door to her filthy room. Rolf, the owner of the house, violently stood up at the small table, and shouted, "Where's my rent WOMAN?"

"I paid it on Tirdas." Obviously he had run up a gambling debt, and wanted to squeeze Selina. Rolf shoved her to the wall, and she was forced to give up the coins earned that night. The lonely dancer cried herself to sleep. Why must she live this way? Why flaunt her body at those stupid brutes? Why sleep in this horrible room? Why live this horrible life?

The next morning, Selina found Rolf standing at her door. "Eh, I'mma, I'm sorry about last night," He pattered about.

"So? Will you give my gold back Rolf?" Selina demanded.

"I, I spent it." Selina shook her head, and walked off, frustrated. She spent the day walking about the town; nobody paid her much attention in her, or her cheap clothes. All the regulars at the inn were probably still asleep, so she wasn't hassled. The day slipped by, another one rose and it would be time to dance again.

Dirt and filth. There's this place she knew, every time before a dance. It was a quiet place, broken only by the sound of the dull wind. The altar of Joundou was a circle of rectangular rocks in the woods, perhaps a mile from Oakwood. It was a shrine to some dead Nord hero who probably killed some bane of Skyrim. Forgotten. The pillars were overgrown with moss and wildflowers. The sun began to set, and a cool breeze reminded Selina that she had to get back now. Dirt and filth.

As she neared the little town, a few cool pricks hit Selina's lovely nose. Soon the sky thundered and a torrent of rain came down flooding down the cobbled streets. The waste and mud the inhabitants usually threw in the streets flowed disgustingly. And so the clientele of Fogswerd's Tavern were augmented by rain-locked travelers. This night Selina found a extravagant robe hung about the seat in her dressing room. It couldn't have been the old harlot's since she appeared at the tavern until sometime in the middle of Selina's dance. She assumed it was from some fan; with means. So to please this fan; Selina donned the robe.

The lovely dancer moved her body in ways she couldn't have imagined. She dazzled the audience; not with sex, but with the art. The nords forgot where they were, only engrossed in Selina's exquisite movements. It was an ethereal quality to everything she did that night, as if she were glowing with grace. Suddenly, the door of the Tavern burst open to a flash of light, and an olive-skinned mer sat down. It had been a long time since Selina had seen an elf; aside from the accessional Bosmer. He wore a sparkling, pearly white robe, and sat down at a table in the back, smiling directly at Selina.

She finished the dance with a wondrous flourish and exited the floor to the stunned faces of the Nords. The mer was still smiling amiably, however. In the dressing room, Selina counted over a hundred gold pieces. The old hag looked at the coins in disbelief and jealousy, but said nothing. Morosely, Selina put on her raggedy clothes and came out onto the cool and now dry night air. She had actually enjoyed her profession tonight; a rare thing. "I presume that you are Selina Maltne?" she turned around and saw the mer from the tavern behind her.

"How did you know that?" Selina asked, no one in this town really knew her identity, or cared.

"I know many things…your brother among them," the mer replied.

"My brother?" Selina was shocked.

"Yes, I was asked to bring you to him. I trust that you are willing to come?"

"I, don't know my brother," the dancer pouted, "Who is he? And how do I know you sent him."

The elf handed Selina an extravagant silver ring. It was marked with a _M._ "Hmmm...I could have sworn I remembered him saying you two were related...Then again, the mannish have such sho--Ah yes. Your brother is a kind person, and was fiercely loyal to the Empire in his younger years. Latius Maltne. He's a good lad, a Bouyant Armiger. That should say alot."

"I, I don't know what to say." Selina sensed that her life had dramatically changed.

"You may call me Gleb, an Ayleid. I am, as I have stated before, to take you home. Provided you are willing," the mer said. Selina knew that this was her only chance to escape her miserable life; she had a feeling that this Gleb was sincere. At least he wasn't an uncivilized nord, after all. She agreed to go with him. As they made there way to her apartment, Selina thought she heard Gleb mutter, "The things I do for cheese…"

Gleb followed Selina through the twisty, windy sidestreets of Oakwood. The citizens still on the streets turned their heads on the unusual Ayleid. "You live here? In this place? It's filthy as a Nord," Gleb asked, nonplussed as they came upon the weathered old building.

"Yes, I live here. It's all I can afford," Selina replied. They climbed up the rickety stairs to find Rolf standing outside his door.

"Who's the elf? I lost my key, so eh, I'm gonna sleep in yur room." Rolf slurred, he was obviously drunk.

Gleb scowled at the uncivilized man, "I really should beat you for being the epitome of the savage Nord. I don't know your name, but I'll call you Mhugrar, after a pet gorilla I had once," he continued, "But it would be beneath my noble station to do so. So I shall summon something to do it for me,"

"You stupid elf, thinking you're so high and mighty I'M GONNA GET YOU!" Rolf ran at the noble Ayleid, fists in the air, but before he could land his punch, something threw him across the room. The stupid man crashed against the wall, dropping with a thud. A vermai stood before the bewildered nord. In a moment the Daedra was on the brute, beating him senseless. After awhile, Gleb dismissed his minion, drawing a flask from his hip.

"This is the only healing potion I have. Unfortunately, it's also the last bottle of brandy I have, so you don't get any," Gleb smiled at the unconscious nord, then looked at Selina, "Shall we enter?"

"Oh, of course," Selina dashed toward her room, fumbled with her key, and opened the door. "I'll just be a moment." It was a strange thing, leaving one's home. Selina knew that she would never return, yet most of her possessions seemed meaningless now. A few cheap dresses, a teddy bear, and some silverware. They were all bad, and she left most everything sitting there. The happy dancer packed a simple bag with some clothes.

When she reappeared, Gleb was browsing a worn red book. He noted, "That is truly all you have in the way of belongings? Here is... Hmmm... 5000 drakes of your brother's money, for any use you choose to use it for." Gleb handed her a black lacquered box, inside lay rows and rows of glistening coins. Selina had never seen anything close to this amount of money in her life. She stared, mesmerized for some time.

"What? Oh, right. I forgot you've been living in poverty for most of your life. Don't waste it. And please hurry. It is unsafe to travel in Skyrim at night. These Nordic curs would cut a saint's throat for half a drake," Gleb informed Selina, then ushered her down the steps and back onto the night air. But of course Selina could not leave Oakwood just yet. There was the beautiful skirts and the beautiful dresses at Gredge's Clothier, and it was due time for a shopping spree.

Gleb hired a coach headed east. It was rather private, the only other passenger was a Khajit who had a taste for all things grass. He said the only thing that he would ever think of eating would be carrots of lettuce. Nevertheless, as the carriage rolled of out town, Selina thought she had heard Gleb mutter, "Why do these humans shop so much? Back in my day..." And she admired all her new pretty things.

The cool winter days moved slowly, like the pace of a slow stream flowing to heaven. Selina watched the countryside with interest, while Gleb spent most of the hours reading his old books. Once she asked about them, "What are you reading about all the time, Gleb?"

"Nchunak," he stammered.

"Oh…" The undereducated dancer was confused.

Gleb, looked up from his book, "Yes, that's right. Do you even know how to read and write? It constantly amazes me how little most humans know in the way of literacy. There's so much you have no ideas of…Theology, history, necromancy…"

Selina sighed, "I do know how to read."

"But do you know how to read in Maormer? If you hope to reside in Morrowind, you will have to be widely learned."

From then on, Gleb resolved to teach Selina everything she could possible need. The khajit looked on, nodded sometimes, and rarely, added his own spin. But whenever the brown beast-man saw a rabbit, he forced the driver to stop. He would quietly sneak behind the rabbit, and follow it to its warren, and then drop a bag of carrots. "I love rabbits," he would say. Gleb would look at the eccentric khajit in interest, but then continue in whatever his task.

When the travelers reached Sunguard, Selina was growing in knowledge, and even had a new way at looking at the world. Who would have thought the moons were bodies of dead gods, and that the sun was a hole in which a God had tried to escape the world! "Imagine yourself, Selina, a month ago you were nothing but a poor dancer," the khajit stated, after dinner in a respectable inn.

"What? How did you know that Hazel?" Selina asked, but the khajit would only smile back at her. He took a bite of lettuce.

"He's not a khajit Selina. You have to learn that everything may not be as it seems.

"Than what is he?" Selina demanded. The khajit grinned at the two, delighted that he would be the subject of an exchange.

"Remember mysticism. Magicka can falsify reality, and magicka can illustrate the truth. Mysticism is unreality," Gleb said, rather calmly, and took a sip from his flask. Yet Selina could still not see who the khajit really was.

The khajit continued to travel with Gleb and Selina as they moved toward Morrowind. It was on the road to Riften that the coach was finally attacked. The cool night air stood silent as Gleb shook Selina awake, and told her to be quiet. The khajit brought the orc driver to a halt.

The Ayleid uttered an incantation and the stretch of road and grass was illuminated as if five holes of Magnus were shining on the spot. Baffled, seven roughly dressed Nords could be seen, sneaking. With the advent of the light, they toppled over. Deciding to cut their luck, they charged the caravan, axes and broadswords at the ready. The Khajit and the Orc ran to meet the nords, augmented by four of Gleb's Vermai. The fight was a magnificent sight for Selina to behold; she sat hidden in the carriage while the Vermai exchanged blows with the barbarians, the khajit jumped over his enemy, biting and scratching, and Gleb hurled fireballs. Even the Orc, with his warhammer, held his own. Within fifteen minutes, the nords were killed.

The carriage stopped at the city of Riften. From now on the travelers would have to walk; as there was no transportation to Morrowind, coming from Skyrim. Gleb took the Khajit and Selina to an inn and said, "I have to meet an old friend of mine here; I will be back by tomorrow," thus leaving them free.

"What would you like to do Hazel?" Selina asked, as they sat about the great fire in the common room.

"Well, I have heard there is a rabbit museum here, but I suppose you have had enough of rabbits for some time," he stated, "Come, I will teach you something else."

The khajit retrieved a bag from his room, and led Selina to the small, frozen garden outside the inn. "A lady of your station must always be proficient with a dagger." He pulled a beautiful jeweled weapon from his bag, "This knife is a Morag Tong weapon; I give it to you freely," he said, smiling. Selina picked it up, and marveled it, its dark metal; how it shone with magicka. Hazel spent the rest of the day teaching Selina the various strikes, movements, and techniques associated with such a weapon. She vowed to always keep it with her; in case of danger.

Hazel and the Dancer spent a pleasant evening, dining at one of the best restaurants in the city, and viewing an old play production. Gleb wondered why Selina was so happy; he hated to stay in Nord cities. And so, at a moderate pace, the three prospective visitors of Morrowind made their way to the Velothi Mountains.

Perhaps it was time for war with the Northern Men, perhaps they were all doing something else, but none took the trails north. Gleb seemed strangely pleased, "Well, the barbarians have finally found the intelligence to stay away from some Aldmeri."

The Khajit smiled, "But if there were no nords in Morrowind, who would the witches trick?" Selina and Gleb laughed, because nords are very laughable and people should make fun of them more often.

The brown and red towers of Dunmeth pass were guarded by a battalion of Redoran Watchmen. They challenged Gleb, who was in the lead, at the gate, "What is your business in Morrowind, Sera?"

"I am Gleb, late on a mission to escort the sister of Latius Maltne to her honorable brother," Gleb stated, proudly.

"Maltne!" The first guard exclaimed.

"Your papers, Sera," The second one added, giving the first guard a look of disapproval.

"Very well, you may enter Morrowind. If you require a guide or a service, inquire inside the castle."

As Gleb led the Khajiit and Selena to Veranis Hall, the Dancer asked, "I thought you said my brother was a buoyant armiger, and I learned it was a simple knightly order. Why would that guard experience shock at the mere mention of his name?"

Gleb replied, a little perturbed, "The Buoyant Armigers are not a simple knightly order. They are the personal army of Lord Vivec, and answer only to him." The khajiit halted on the road. When Selina and Gleb turned around in inquisition he said,

"It's time to tell Selina the truth. No, she _would_ find out on her own, and she _is _smarter than you have neglected to realize. It is better that she is not ignorant," Hazel turned to Selina, "Vivec is no longer in command of the Buoyant Armigers. In fact, he is no longer a God. The Nerevarine had something to do with it; I'm not sure, but Almalexia and Sotha-Sil, the two other Triunes, are already dead. Now, until recently, Vivec has been giving orders from his palace, but he too, has disappeared. The Temple is currently run by the Archcanons, they do not inform the people of what has transpired.

Through this…chaos your brother has risen to the rank of General; it is quite an interesting story how an Imperial has risen to the station, but they have accepted him. As they will accept you."

Selina nodded, wide-eyed, "I can do this,"

"You can," the Khajiit replied.

"Well well, if we're done patting each other on the back, let's get moving," Gleb said, starting down the road again.

At Veranis Hall, the travelers were found by Avus Andrilo, a young dunmer decked in netch leather. "Hello, hello! Ah, the wise Gleb, my noble Khajiit Hazel and…" he knelt down on the dock and took Selina's hand, kissing it, "The beautiful Selina."

To the dashing young Dunmer, Selina's face turned red. He took her arm and led her onto the ship, chartered to Vivec. The khajiit and Gleb followed in tow, and the Ayleid muttered, "Damn promiscuous Indorils."

The ship easily rocked back and forth all the way to Vivec, where Andrilo paid the captain, and lead them to an office near the Temple. Another dunmer was waiting at a desk for them, "Welcome! Selina and Avus can come through to Serjo Maltne. Hazel and Gleb, he will see you after."

Andrilo led the dancer in the door dominating the back wall of the room. "Don't be nervous," he said, while opening the door, "Your brother is quite a man."

"And my cheese?" Gleb asked.

"Your payment for services rendered has been shipped to your residence in Narsis. Excuse me," The servant left.

"Farewell Selina. I hope you have fun with your loving brother," Gleb finally said, to the door.

The khajiit added, "There goes the lonely dancer to finally meet her destiny,"

"I hope we prepared her well. I never was a good teacher, and I certainly wouldn't want her to feel the effects of that." Gleb stated, morosely. The khajiit sighed, too; he had tried to instill confidence in Selina, that she could be ready for the charge of noblewoman. He had never been sure though.

"Don't worry, El-Ahrairah, she will be alright, and thousands like her," The Nerevarine had appeared.

"But what of us, we dance this eternal waltz to and fro, up and down. Surely you must know of the honest toils we share?" Hazel asked.

"Yes, we dance to this unending waltz, but we do so on a drum full of hornets," Gleb added.

"You have forgotten what we do is for others, making a mark on their lives. We do good so that others may do evil. Destroy evil so that others may live in peace."

"They are stupid, and forget by the time men grow old. We only live to see the rise and fall of an empire; our deeds disappear like kanet seeds in the dusk winds."

The Incarnate smiled, "Ah, but are we not recorded in posterity? Books, oral traditions. We are remembered even if we are not. Do you not agree, rabbit?"

El-Ahrairah nodded, "Yes, some things can never be forgotten."

"What could be nobler than the telling of history? The scholar is the ambassador of the past. He tells of great victories, grave mistakes; of those people much like ourselves. And does the scholar's name not appear on the top of his volumes?"

"Perhaps…" Gleb said, cynical.

"Well, look at it this way. Do you receive honest payment for those things you accomplish in the name of good?"

"Haha, I have earned just as much in the service of evil," Gleb replied to Nerevar Reborn.

"Gleb, when you talk of your younger years, you sound filthy. Such is how you would be remembered, had you not began to work with our alignment," the khajiit said, in a pithy manner.

"The nature of good and evil, do either really exist?"

"Of course, Gleb. We mortals are blessed with a choice. It is either the walking road to the light, or the brackish waters of the dark. Some are without an option. Although we may not pity them, they are slaves to a nature pre-inscribed, pre-determined, and unwavering. Now, it seems that beautiful girl is coming back, I must not meet her now. Goodbye."

The Nerevarine stepped out onto the ancient Vivec air, the sun was again rising over the God's Palace.


End file.
